


Simple Little Equation

by lily_zen



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drama, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_zen/pseuds/lily_zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Die muses on how life is supposed to be, and compares it to how life really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Little Equation

Simple Little Equation

 

Genre: Sap/ Fluff, Angst

Archive: Ask

Warnings: Call your dentist.

By: Lily Zen

Disclaimer: Not mine.

 

*

 

 

Fall in love, get married, live happily ever after.

 

That’s the way it’s supposed to happen, right?

 

Wrong.

 

Guys in homosexual relationships are just as closed off as guys in heterosexual relationships. I don’t know where people get the idea that they aren’t. In fact, if anything it’s twice as worse, because now both partners are distant, uncommunicative, and emotionally stunted.

 

That’s why when I realized that I had somehow fallen for my band’s guitarist, I kind of stopped and said, “Oh shit.” Mainly because now there were reasons to not be involved in anything other than a platonic relationship. I swore to myself I would never become a burden to my band or my friends because of the way I felt.

 

I distanced myself from him. We used to go out after work with the band—no more. We used to make excuses on the weekend to hang out, saying we were going to work on some music, even though nothing ever got done—no more of that either. I could see that he was somewhat hurt by my sudden change in behavior. He asked me several times if there was something wrong, if I had angered him somehow, and how he could possibly make it up to me.

 

My only reply was that I wasn’t angry. I think I made up some bullshit about just not wanting to do anything. He looked sad, and I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault; it was mine. I couldn’t though. Damn that male pride. I couldn’t admit it to him at all.

 

Then we were on tour, and being together was unavoidable. There were always after parties to go to, sightseeing to be done. I could usually find a way to wiggle out of most of it, but then of course, there were concerts. I remember in perfect detail, after one concert, he pulled me aside backstage, and he kissed me.

 

It was a good kiss too, not that I’d had any doubt of my fellow guitarist’s kissing abilities. Smooth like chocolate, mostly just his lips on mine, moving in tandem, just the right amount of tongue to be appropriate. He was smiling when he pulled away, jubilation clear in his eyes, with just the slightest hint of a blush on his cheekbones. He looked like he was about to say something, and then…he shook his head, and just walked away, slinging his arm over Kyo’s shoulders and crowing about how awesome the show was.

 

What did I tell you, uncommunicative? Observe: Evidence B. (Evidence A would be myself.)

 

Later though, when I was back in my hotel room, paging through a National Geographic, there was a knock at my door. I found that pretty weird, since I’d told everyone I wasn’t going to the after party tonight. Not in the mood, I’d claimed. Sighing, I rose from the bed, and through the peephole, I could see him, his violet hair in disarray. He stood, nervously twisting his hands in the hem of his t-shirt.

 

Hesitantly, I opened the door and invited him inside. He sat on my bed, pretty much the only place to sit, and picked up my abandoned National Geographic. He flipped through the pages for a second, before closing the magazine and setting it quietly down on the bed.

 

I stared at him; he stared at me. There was mutual staring.

 

Finally he looked to the side, sighing slightly. “You’re not going to say anything, are you?” He paused for a moment, twisting his long black hair in his hands. “Fine, I will.” He sat there some more, still playing with his hair. The tense silence was so palpable you could have touched it.

 

I cleared my throat, asking, “Well?” He looked at me quickly, like he’d just been brought out of hypnosis. “I’m thinking,” he stated, looking down again at his hands. “You mean procrastinating,” I jibed with a small pale version of my usual grin on my face. He smiled up at me, “That too.”

 

Seeming to make a decision, he placed both hands onto the bed and levered himself up, walking towards me. Unbeknownst to me, I took a step back and found myself against the wall. He was close, too close. Surely he could see into my eyes from here, see the truth emblazoned upon them like they were upon my soul.

 

“I love you, Die.” He said it so bluntly, so honestly that I had to believe him. “And I know you love me too, whether you say it or not.” With that he kissed me again. Our second kiss. First, if you wanted to nitpick, but let’s call a flower a flower, ne?

 

When he pulled away, it was like he pulled my confession out with him. “I love you, Kaoru.” It was a mere whisper, but I knew I’d said it, instead of just thought it like I had so many times before then. He smiled resplendently and stated, “I know.” We were together that night. Together for the first time. He memorized the sleek lines and planes of my body, and I knew his would be forever imprinted on my mind and my hands would forever crave the feel of him and my mouth would yearn only for the sweet, salty taste of his skin.

 

Of course we are men though. We have our days when we simply can’t stand each other because of all the machismo. Sometimes the testosterone is overwhelming. (What I wouldn’t give for Kaoru to take some estrogen pills, although every time I mention it, it starts a fight. “Why don’t you be the girl, Daisuke? Do I look like a girl to you? You want me to chop my dick off too? Funny, you weren’t saying that last night!”) We fight over the stupidest stuff, and then when it’s important we’ll remain silent about it for weeks. Eventually though, we resolve our differences and explain to each other and ourselves again that as homosexuals, we defy the roles placed on “normal” couples. There is no true woman here, nor no true man. We make the rules up as we go. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t.

 

What matters is that we’re together.

 

Fall in love, get married, live happily ever after.

 

So what if there’s a couple extra steps in there?

 

-FIN-


End file.
